Updated: Apr 5, 2020
Player Name: Elena
Player E-Mail: Russiansppyy24@gmail.com
Name: Valeria Delvaux
Nickname(s): Val, Lera
Actual Age: 25
Date of Birth: January 24th, 1847
Place of Birth: New Orleans, LA
Marital Status: Single
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Chronic Diseases: None
Eye Color: dark brown
Hair Color/Style: Long, thick, wavy dark brown, almost black.
Other: Pierced ears, some scars from blood magic and other dark spells
Val is slim and physically, wouldn't be much of a fighter. Used to nice clothes, the ones she'd taken with her from home still give her the appearance of someone with status, but they're slowly becoming warn. She usually tries to look good, but since running away, she can't be bothered with elaborate hairstyles and the skincare and makeup regiments she once had. She does enough to not look like a bum or plain. She does, however, like prints and furs.
Play-By Used: Anya Chalotra
Until effectively abandoning her family, her coven, Val was everything that her grandmother, the Supreme, wanted in a future successor. Val followed the rules, participated in rituals, never said no, hid any fear or trepidation. She wanted to be the best, devoured as much knowledge as she could, and beyond. Failure was not an option, and she was proud, arrogant, and addicted to dark magic. From an early age, the possibilities seemed endless. Val never stopped wanting more, to reach higher and higher, believing the impossible was very possible with just enough acquired power.
Sometimes she was foolhardy, too rash, and had to take her grandmother's punishment without question. Isolation for two weeks or more was maddening, but Val buried herself in studies and gritted her teeth. When she was out, she didn't really make friends. Those her age didn't trust her and she didn't trust them, even though they were a part of her coven. Allying with Val meant possibly losing a limb or even dying. Hell, some thought she worshipped Satan. Satan didn't exist of course, but part of Val liked how people were afraid of her.
After the death and sacrifice of William, the man she loved, her life was ruined. Her coven betrayed her, punished her yet again. And her grandmother didn't care that she broke her granddaughter's heart. They could not love outside of their coven. Everyone else were just pawns. They were greedy, base, and weak, she'd been taught. But was love not allowed? Val couldn't have helped the way she fell for the former slave. Despite telling herself all her life that she was going to be powerful, feared, and eventually followed, she desired love and affection, something she'd never really gotten after her parents died.
After running away, Val began to change, began to feel her freedom. And while the desire for power and glory still brimmed beneath the surface, she began to realize that the person that she was raised to become wasn’t actually who she was inside. She didn’t want it anymore. Often battling between right and wrong, she questions her decisions. She questions her purpose entirely. She wonders if it’s possible to still do dark magic while trying to be good. She also hopes to one day find herself a new home, to feel at home again.
She is often blunt and can be brash, but she tries not to be that person that she was. She tries to be kind, give people the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes, it’s impossible for her not to be petty, pretentious, or quick to anger.
Specialties or Elements: Dark magic, such as seances and hexes; but also she’s a medium, can sense energies of those still alive and dead. She’s very comfortable in the dark, in haunted places, like cemeteries, and is good with shadow magic.
Strengths: determined, goal-oriented, smart, survivalist
Weaknesses: easily irritated, pretentious at times, thinks of consequences later
Familiar: Cat, naturally, but ironically a white, fluffy one named Horace. Long haired british.
By the 1840s, New Orleans had the biggest slave market in the United States, which contributed
greatly to the economy. It had become one of the wealthiest cities and the third-largest city in the nation. Valeria’s family was not only the head of what remained of the Salem coven, but it was incredibly wealthy with lands full of slaves. Val was raised not only to think that she was superior to those of different skin colors, but that she was superior because she was a witch, and that anything was possible if she worked hard, learned everything she could, and applied herself completely. She might as well have signed her name in that book folklore spoke about.
Val’s father, James, fought and died in the civil war when she was a teenager. Not too long after, unable to cope, her mother Victoria took her own life. Although Val had no thoughts of doing the same, it was during this time that she strove to strengthen her skills in contacting the dead, desperate. Her grandmother, the coven’s Supreme, encouraged her to use her grief to hone her power and took over raising Val with strictness and order. Death was a very powerful thing, she told her, just as there was energy in life. So Val buried herself in her studies and took greater risks in learning each new ritual, rite, or spell. She had few friends during this time, as she didn’t care much about bonds or truly forming relationships for the fear of them getting in her way.
Not only did she participate in her coven’s sacrificial holy days, she made rituals of her own, often finding them in old books, experimenting, walking on a thin line between what was safe and what was dangerous. More often than not, the thrill of danger fueled her, and those her age didn’t want to risk their own lives. It was a miracle that her familiar Horace survived. Numerous times he would have perished by accident.
Everything changed when Val met William, a freedman who entranced her with promise of teaching her the ways of voodoo. Val always wanted to know more. Although she was raised in a prejudice environment, Val ultimately didn’t care about the color of skin. The two met in secret, first trading secrets of magic. Then, there became more to it. They met because feelings developed. They fell in love. The illusion of safety lasted only for half a year.
Although the coven didn’t associate themselves with human groups despite being on the side of the confederacy, a few young men decided to join the KKK. They were the ones who discovered the pair. There was nothing that Val could do when word of her secret tryst reached her grandmother. However, instead of punishing the girl, the Supreme decided to punish William. Voodoo was an aberration, and equally, as terrible, William was a black man. The blood of the coven had to be preserved.
They needed a sacrifice for a particularly important ritual. William was convenient. And Val would learn her lesson this way. It was worse than lynching. She watched him scream through his gag as they cut him open and let his blood drain into the grass. The coven reveled in the blood magic. After that, Val’s entire opinion about them, her family, changed overnight. For a few weeks, she was wracked with guilt, anger and horror. She lashed out and even killed one of the young men who’d snitched. While her grandmother didn’t punish her, simply let her drown in her misery, that wasn’t enough for Val. She knew what her grandmother was doing. She was letting the darkness within her grandchild build. It was a powerful thing. Val might have declared that she hated her, but the Supreme knew that Val would understand in time.
Except Val really wouldn’t. Nothing could absolve the vicious act. She couldn’t be there anymore, not around her grandmother, or any of them. They couldn’t read her mind thankfully. Val planned to leave. They couldn’t stop her. When the Supreme began to think that she was finally accepting everything, when the tears stopped, Val escaped in the night and didn’t look back. She took as much money and belongings as she could and ran. People were sent after her, but Val manipulates the shadows. Once she was on the train west, they lost her.
She didn’t stop until she hit the wilderness, the territories. It took months until she finally stopped looking over her shoulder and knew she was free. She found herself in Denver. If she had to, she’d go further west, maybe to Canada. For now, she got off the Kansas Pacific Rail and decided to stay for a while.
None, she’s living off money she took before she ran off. Of course, it’s going to run out.
Address: Hotel Scarlett
Lived There Since: A week or so
Likes: Fine clothes; clean, comfortable bed; a nice wine; luxuries in general; her familiar Horace
Dislikes: Racists, creepy men; bad hygiene; bright sun in her face in the morning; coffee
Hobbies: Staying up late (if you consider it a hobby) and taking long walks at night; reading up on magic, history in general; practicing magic
Favorite Color: Emerald colors
Favorite Food: Roasted Chicken
Favorite Drink: Wine